


Wolfkissed Drengr Drabbles

by Feylaa



Series: The Wolfkissed Drengr [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Childhood Trauma, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Healing, Styrbjorn is a creep, childhood crushes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28367253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feylaa/pseuds/Feylaa
Summary: These are some headcanon that were stuck in my head. (One of the first times a game has given me any, outside of dragon age!) Most are very short, and go in order, starting from Eivor’s childhood. Maybe I will expand on them later, who knows.Eivor has experienced some terrible trauma in her childhood. This is how she begins to heal from it. It is also the story of how she comes into her own as a powerful Drengr.
Relationships: Brief Eivor/Valka, Eivor & Sigurd Styrbjornson, Eivor & Valka, Onesided Eivor/Sigurd Styrbjornson, mentioned Eivor/Vili Hemmingson
Series: The Wolfkissed Drengr [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077479
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. Healing

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr, https://wolfkissed-drengr.tumblr.com/
> 
> If you have some ideas or headcanon, let me know!
> 
> *spoilers for my writing*
> 
> I begin to touch on some body issues Eivor has, but I do not suffer these issues in my real life. If I do it misjustice, please let me know and tell me how to make it better!
> 
> *spoilers over*
> 
> Synopsis: Eivor begins to heal.
> 
> Word count: 1426
> 
> Warnings: There are some childhood crushes happening, but a little kiss is all that happens. Some descriptions of gore, and the beginning of body issues.

—————————-

In her mind the fires raged. In front of her on the ice lay her fathers head, and in the next blink, her father was kneeling before his murderer. Next to her was an axe that she could not lift. Then she was on her back, throat, neck and skull all on fire. The wolf was above her, salivating bloody drool onto her face. She struggled for the axe that still lay beside her and as the creature bore down again, two raves swooped and stunned the massive beast. It was enough time for Eivor to pull the axe up as the ice cracked around her small body. Her legs dipped and cold fire burned there as well. She screamed as the wolf’s teeth bit into her again, sinking deeper, but stopping as its furred body dropped onto her, axe having sunk into its neck. As it collapsed on her and drug her further under the water, a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her out of the water. Her body was wracked in shivers as Sigurd’s head swam in her vision- blackness pulling at the edges. There was a ringing sound, like when the blacksmith struck metal, and Sigurd’s mouth was moving but nothing was coming out. Between one blink and the next, she woke up in bed, screaming- but that hurt like fire in her throat. Within an instant a tattooed face of a woman appeared in front of her eyes, hands gently coaxing Eivor back onto the bed.

“Calm, little one, calm. You live yet, and should not move or speak.” Once she was sure Eivor was not going to be moving, the woman turned and went back to working at the table next to the bed Eivor was laying in.  
Eivor tried to speak again, and tears sprung into her eyes at the pain. Instead, she found herself mouthing the words ‘what happened’ over and over, looking pleadingly at the Völva.

“The wolf tore into your throat, deeply. You live, by the luck of the gods, but you may never speak again.” Finally turning back, the Völva peeled off the bandages that wrapped around most of Eivor’s upper torso. Applying a thick paste, the wound was rewrapped, and a drink was pushed to Eivor’s lips. Drinking deeply helped soothe the throbbing in her throat, so she bore the taste without hesitation. Almost immediately, sleep tugged at her mind, and she laid back, deeper into the bed and slept.

—————————-

It took weeks for her to be allowed out of that sickbed. In that time, the fire in her throat died down, but never went away. She still could not speak, and she was even weaker than she had been the night of the slaughter. Sigurd came to see her many times. He would stay and talk to her, despite her being sullen and angry. He became a rock for her and her emotions. Upon his insistence, they came up with a basic language for Eivor. Using her hands and different gestures, she was able to communicate for the first time in months. The first time she was able to get through an idea she wept.

Sigurd brought her news of what happened as well. That his father was bringing her into his house as a ward. She was to be Sigurd’s sister. There was an unfamiliar emotion roiling in her stomach at that though, but she did not know what it meant, and ignored it.

—————————-

Walking was hard. The muscles in her legs all but wasted away during her recovery, and it hurt to use them. The Völva forced her to, though. Praised her when she managed further each day, until she could walk without aid for hours at a time. She wept then too.

The muscles in her arms were both easier and harder to fix. The undamaged side went quickly, but the side the wolf had mauled was weak. For nearly a year, lifting her arm above her head was impossible, and she could barely hold things.  
The Raven Clan became her home in that first year. Many of the villagers giving her small tasks to do such as running notes, to help. She had taken to trailing Sigurd like a shadow. In her mind, it was because he was the only one she could 'talk’ to, but that roiling emotion was still in her belly. She was learning to ignore that as much as the ache in her muscles.

One evening as she tried to find Sigurd, she overheard Dag complaining to her brother that he gave too much time to the weak Wolfkissed girl. She froze in despair, and never heard what Sigurd might have said back.

—————————-

One of the good things, Eivor mused internally, about living with the Völva and her daughter, was that most of the village left them alone unless they needed something. This let Eivor try to regain her strength without looking a fool. Valka was always coming up with strange ideas for Eivor to try. This week, it was holding a rock and squeezing it as tightly as she could for as long as she could. Both girls were thrilled when, after the week, they realized Eivor’s grip has strengthened enough to help hold her when trying to climb. They sat on the roof of Svala’s house and shyly kissed. After that, they lay curled around each other while Eivor cried in relief.

Her arm and hand strength recovered quickly after that. She did as many chores as she could, lifting and carrying crates and boxes for Svala, and anyone else in the village. Sigurd made a game of it for her, making her find him in the strangest of places. It almost always required her to climb and always left her sore and tired after. After she was able to climb with easy, Sigurd swept her into a tight hug and spun her. Her cheeks flushed as she hugged him back just as hard, but in her mind, the feeling she got when she kissed Valka and how she wanted that with Sigurd. She pushed the still roiling feeling down instead.

She moved out of the Völva’s house then, and into the longhouse with the King and Sigurd.

Eivor still made the trek to Svala’s house as often as she could, often with a wood axe strapped to her back. She would practice swinging it as much as she could. In the beginning, she could barely lift it and she fought back tears as she was reminded- each time she could not lift it- of her parent’s death and how she could do nothing. She swore to herself she would never be so helpless again. She would be a Drengr, like Sigurd was becoming.

—————————-

It was the following year that as she managed to finally throw the axe and have it stick into a target her and Valka made that she made her first noise since the incident. It was a scratchy meager yelp as she stumbled, but it made her freeze. Valka shouted in excitement, and barreled into her, knocking her into the snow. It would be one of the last times she wept.

Her tongue was clumsy in her mouth at first. But, just like her legs and arm, she pushed and pushed until it obeyed what she wanted. She stumbled over her words like a babe at first, but week by week she was getting better. Her voice never lost the rough, horse quality to it though. She didn’t mind.

A few months after she learned she could speak, curled up on Valka’s roof, Eivor whispered her deepest secret to the other girl. Sometimes she felt wrong in her body. She would look to the other boys in the village and wonder why she was a girl.

—————————-

As she grew leaner and more muscled, the scar stuck out deeply in her skin. It covered her whole shoulder and neck, a deep and ugly thing. She thought back to Dag’s words. Wolfkissed. As Eivor crouched over the stream looking at her reflection, she agreed with the name. It was a strong name, a good name for a Drengr. “Eivor the Wolfkissed, they will all know me by. A Drengr, a fighter, I will be battle blissed. Valhalla be my rest when I die.”

After a year of forced silence, words became as close a friend to her as Sigurd was. She rarely held them back and found a love of flyting. She battled words as often as she practiced her blades.

—————————-


	2. Growing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Eivor begins to grow into herself and what she wants, and some of the special things she can do begin to happen.
> 
> Warnings: There are some childhood crushes happening, but nothing of note happens here. Some descriptions of gore, and the beginning of body issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: These are some headcanon that were stuck in my head. (One of the first times a game has given me any, outside of dragon age!) Most are very short, and go in order, starting from Eivor’s childhood. Maybe I will expand on them later, who knows.
> 
> *spoilers for my writing*
> 
> I begin to touch on some body issues Eivor has, but I do not suffer these issues in my real life. If I do it misjustice, please let me know and tell me how to make it better!
> 
> *spoilers over*
> 
> Word count: 1306

—————————-

One day as she was practicing with borrowed swords, a weak chirping caught her ear. Eivor dropped them and began searching for the sound. At the base of a tree, she found a half-frozen raven chick. Its eyes were frozen shut, and the tiny body felt like ice in her hands. She sprinted her way to the Völva’s house, praising Odin for the ability to do so.

Svala warned her the chick would likely die, or lose its eyes. Eivor refused that outcome- the thing had enough strength to survive that long, it would pull through just as she did. In defiance, she named it Synin. It took time, but the little chick grew and despite its slightly clouded eyes, seemed to see just fine.

The raven chick grew fast and bonded with her even faster. The Völva was surprised at its survival but took it as a sign from Odin that Eivor had a great path before her. It was not long before Eivor realized she had a very strange and powerful bond with the raven. She had been hunting, looking for deer. Practicing her tracking skills, when Synin perched on her shoulder and butted her head up against Eivor’s. Suddenly, Synin took off and soared above the trees, circling in wider circles each time. Eivor stood there stunned. In her mind, she saw what her raven was seeing. Her head began to pound, and she shook her head, eyes closing tight. Between that and the next blink, she was back in her own mind, alone. But she knew there were deer off to her left.

She took off back to Svala, scared. The Völva calmed her and spoke of seidr, and magic. She made Eivor a brew to ease her throbbing head, and Eivor did calm some, now knowing something more of it at least. She made her way back to the longhouse, taking Sigurd’s good-natured jabs harsher than usual. She snapped at her brother, who was taken aback by her anger. 

That night, she dreamt of soaring places and running up a mountain.

—————————-

Eivor practiced with Synin, and eventually, the headaches were manageable. She dared not tell anyone else, for fear of being thought mad or cursed. It took time, but she became quite adept at using it while hunting. 

On one such hunting trip, while she saw through Synin’s eyes, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck brought her to her own senses. Spinning around, she searched for what caused the feeling. Her eyes began to itch and water slightly. She paused to rub them, thinking something had gotten in her eyes when she heard a branch break behind her. Hands flying to her bow, her eyes went wide as a young polar bear roared at her. In that moment her eyes flew open, her vision shifted. It was strange, like the shimmer around a fire, but covering everything she could see. And after it was done, the bear before her had a red glow to it.

It charged at her, and she stumbled back, notching an arrow. Her surprise grew as the place where the bear’s heart would be seemed to glow brighter. She drew back with all her might, and let the arrow fly just as the bear began to charge. The arrow flew true, and the bear dropped instantly. Eivor just lay there, on the icy ground, staring at the sky, breath finally returning to normal. Eventually, the chill began to get to her, and she sat, looking at the bear. It was too large to carry herself- Sigurd could help her. With a nod to herself, she made her way back to the village to gather him and a horse.

Her brother did not believe her at first but followed her anyway, Dag trailing behind ready to mock her (she guessed), and they were both astounded when she brought them to the corpse. Synin landed on her shoulder with a caw, beak bloody from the eyes of the bear, and Eivor grinned to herself, full of pride. “I am Eivar Wolfkissed,” and at that exclamation Dag floundered, “and I will be a mighty Drengr.”

Sigurd laughed, full of pride for her as well. “Yes, little one. I’m sure you will! Perhaps you should start practicing with the rest of us!” The boys got the bear attached to the horse and she trailed behind. Still, in her mind, she heard the screams of her old home as it burned. She would be a Drengr, and she would kill Kjotve.

—————————-

It took time for Styrbjorn to accept Eivor as a would-be raider. Sigurd had rounds with his father over it, and it made Eivor fall a little deeper into the feeling she had for Sigurd. Styrbjorn wanted a demonstration, and a practice ring was set up for her. Many children in the village wanted to join, and so Eivor readied herself. She would go against one of the older boys, to prove she could. Dag was the one she eventually went up against.

He taunted her, as she stood across from him, twin axes in hand. With her ragged voice, her battle shout was fierce as she charged at him. He met her blow for blow, better than her, and she raged at that. A blow that she should have avoided, easily even, she ignored, and Dag’s blade sliced into her cheek. The pain burned, but she did not relent- this pain was not as bad as the wolf. And finally, a blow of hers landed, cutting across Dag’s arm. Sigurd ran in, shouting as she and Dag broke apart. Eivor stood there grinning, blood dripping down her face. “I am Eivor, Wolfkissed. I will be a Drengr. Ravenfeeder, and battle-blissed.” She spoke quietly, and Sigurd shook his head at her with a grin. She was taken to the Völva once again to be healed.

The scar would remain her whole life, as would the wolf scar on her neck. She liked that. Scars were proof of living and of battle. 

—————————-

The bear pelt sat on her bed. She refused to have anything made of it, as she would outgrow anything now and she wanted to keep it as a reminder. Her face had healed now, just as the new cut scars that littered her arms. She was stronger now but still had so much farther to go. She trained with bow, axe, shield, sword. Any weapon she could get her small hands on. There were times she cursed her age, but she knew she needed to bide her time until she grew. When her body tired, she trained her mind. Playing hnefatafl, a game of war and strategy with Sigurd and Styrbjorn. Flyting with Alvis kept her wit sharp. She left no part of her self untrained.

—————————-

It had been many years, and she has grown. She is tall now, all lean muscles with only a touch of softness on her form. A tattoo on a raven was added over her ear, the same side as the wolf scar, and around her face was a mimicry of battle paint. On both hands lay runes, which Valka crafted for her. To keep her safe and even-minded, the other girl said. Eivor had shrugged while Valka nervously explained and then went to Svend to get them added onto her body.

Her body confused her. She was a woman in body now but did not care what gender she was. There were times in her dreams when she felt she walk in a man's body. Strong shoulders, a frame wider than her own. Some parts of the dreams broke into her waking hours. She walked as Sigurd did, kingly and strong. Not like some of the other women in the village. But it helped her, made her seem fierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hnefatafl, also known as The Viking Game, The King's Table or simply Tafl, is an exciting and strategic board game which has been played for hundreds of years, peaking in popularity during the Dark Ages in Northern Europe. Over the centuries the game developed, and archaeologists have discovered differing versions. Hnefatafl was last recorded as being played in Wales in 1587 and in Lapland in 1723.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Styrbjorn is a creep, and Eivor meets a good friend. More tension from Dag grows, and Eivor's body issues continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still in the younger years, pre game!
> 
> A/N: These are some headcanon that were stuck in my head. (One of the first times a game has given me any, outside of dragon age!) Most are very short, and go in order, starting from Eivor’s childhood. Maybe I will expand on them later, who knows.
> 
> *spoilers for my writing*
> 
> I begin to touch on some body issues Eivor has, but I do not suffer these issues in my real life. If I do it misjustice, please let me know and tell me how to make it better!
> 
> *spoilers over*
> 
> Synopsis: Eivor meets a good friend.
> 
> Word count: 1418
> 
> Warnings: There are some childhood crushes happening, but nothing of note happens here. Some descriptions of gore, and the beginning of body issues.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Years had passed. She was a young woman now, and Styrbjorn’s eye wandered to her form one too many times for her to be comfortable in the longhouse with him anymore. In the end, it took Sigurd speaking to his father on her behalf to be allowed to raise a house herself. Eivor did so gladly, and by herself. It took time, and many attempts, but in the end, she had a home to call her own.

Almost as soon as she left the longhouse, the dreams started in earnest.

Eivor spoke of them first to Valka’s mother, but the woman’s mind had begun to slip and be less and less present. Soon, she chose to tell Valka herself. With Valka taking on more and more duties of the Völva, their friendship had grown more distant- but no less weak.

The dreams always began with Eivor on a snowy mountain, she tells Valka. Sigurd it kneeling before a wolf, and she is desperate to get to him. Except… in those dreams she is not a woman. She wears a man’s body. Usually, she wakes before the weavers, but sometimes it carries past that. The gate was always difficult to open, snow bunching around its door as the blizzard raged. But there before her stood Sigurd, always. Same as how he always called her Havi. And upon being called such, she would realize her vision was off because she could only see through a single eye. Clutching the stump of an arm, Sigurd would speak on how their fates were always to be, before leaving her behind and walking into the storms heart. Pulling her eye away from the dead flesh of Sigurd’s arm on the ground, she would rush as well as she could to her brother, begging for answers he would never give. The moment her hand clutched at him, he was sucked off the edge, but it always felt like she was the one to push him. A ferocious growl would sound, and a monstrous wolf would emerge from the storm, lunging at her. 

From these dreams, she would always wake with a scream in her throat, icy and cold. As though she just stepped away from the mountain’s blizzard.

Valka grew more worried each time the dreams happened.

—————————-

She had grown more or less comfortable in her body over the years. But each time the dreams happened, it was hard to pull back from the feeling that it was wrong. Each time one happened, she went to Valka for more runes, in hopes to protect against them. Soon, her whole arm was covered, and the other arm was growing a large collection as well. The new ones were tiny and took a long time to get and to heal from.

Eivor relished in each one though. They felt like they bound her to Midgard, and to her here-and-now body, not the dream one.

—————————-

Eivor circled the man in the training pit. An axe in one hand and a shield gripped tightly in the other. He soon fell under her assault. And the next, and the one after. Soon, Dag stepped into the ring, under Sigurd’s encouragement. Eivor scowled behind her shield Sigurd’s choice, but she bore it as she would all his decisions.

Her and Dag circled each other in the ring, feinting and catching axes in shields. After parrying a blow from Dag, Eivor risked a look towards her brother, only to find him not watching. Anger bubbled up inside her, and she released a roar as she pumbled against Dag’s shield, it splintering under her assault. It crumbled, and as she raised her wooden axe for a final blow, Styrbjorn called for her to stop. “You’ve too much rage,” he tells her, and she shouts again as she throws down her axe and shield into the muddy ground and stalks off.

He would never let her become a Drengr. What was the point of trying?

—————————-

Sigurd found her later making a cairn atop a hill overlooking the village. “Sister,” he says- as though nothing is wrong, “you have come so far! You are very skilled. It would be a boon to have you on my longship.”

The words tear at her heart because there is nothing she wants more. His father will come around, he claims, just give him time. So she agreed, because what else could her fate lead to? She would kill Kjotve for vengeance of her clan, and then she would move on to become Sigurd’s right hand. The betrayal Valka seemed so sure of would never come to pass. Eivor would make sure of it.

—————————-

Sigurd left soon after, taking Dag with him to go viking. The slice of her brother’s betrayal ran deep, and the dreams became more frequent. 

Her once bare arm was now covered in runes and designs. She pleaded with Valka to give her more, this time on her front. The amount of intricate tattoos means that wearing anything on them would burn and could infect, so she took to wearing a heavy cloak and nothing but her breastband. 

With Styrbjorn’s wandering eyes getting worse, she kept more to herself, feeling isolated in the village that was once her second home.

—————————-

She began to spend more time with Gunnar. His eyes did not wander much past the forge, and he gave good tips on how to manage a multitude of weapons and armor. From him, Eivor learned how to make field broken armor work until she could return home. She also learned the basics of using different weapons. Swords, daggers, spears, all the things that Gunnar could make, he could use. Eivor would never have a true talent for smithing, but she learned what she could.

—————————-

That was also the summer she met Vili. Styrbjorn sent her to summer there, as his daughter- to tie the clans closer together in trust and friendship. She learned much there and gained fast friends. She felt more welcome there, sometimes than in her own clan. And despite the closeness of herself and Vili, never once was there a mention of familial kinship like with Sigurd, though the same roiling of emotions sat in her belly.

—————————-

The whole time she had been training herself, she always stood firm and never gave ground. She was a rock and did not move more than to attack. Vili changed that about her. They sparred, and she was soundly beaten for the first time in a long while. The man weaved and moved as she struck out, despite his large frame and love of heavy weaponry.

And so she trained her body to move like a wildcat, lithe and quick. Jumping from pole to pole over snowbanks, and falling in more often than not at first. But, as with everything she set to do, her stubbornness paid off. Soon she was leaping and tumbling better. Her fighting became more fluid and she even felt stronger for it.

—————————-

They sat atop trees, throwing pinecones at the berserkers below them and laughing as they searched. The berserker brew made their minds dull. In the back of her head, Eivor was glad she never took that path- she almost did. 

Eventually, her and Vili began to tire from sitting in the trees and began to pick off the berserkers, luring them into one on one fighting. Eivor was surprised at the ease she was able to overpower them. Vili’s insistence on her moving and training in this new way was a large boon to her strength.

—————————-

Styrbjorn decided that she would winter there as well, and Eivor could not say she was saddened by it. That Yule was one of the best once since her parents were killed.

(She would never tell the story of the chickens though) Vili earned a new nickname, having drunkenly carved a dragon’s tail.

—————————-

She was saddened to leave back to the raven clan. Vili and his father had taught her so much and made her strong. She wondered if this was the beginning of her goodbyes to the Raven Clan and if Styrbjorn planned on arranging a marriage between herself and Vili for alliances. She didn’t think she would be upset at the prospect. Vili seemed like a man who would not try to make her into something she was not. Much like (the little she remembered anymore) her father and mother.

—————————-

Sadly it was not meant to be, with Vili and his clan sailing to England the following year.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————


	4. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Eivor begins to heal, and makes new friends. One she will not see for a long while, and another in her brother's wife.
> 
> Final chapter in the drabble pre game part of the series. The rest won't come until I finish the game, sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some short connected drabbles about her childhood in the Raven Clan.  
> I had some headcanons and they needed to be written!
> 
> A/N: These are some headcanon that were stuck in my head. (One of the first times a game has given me any, outside of dragon age!) Most are very short, and go in order, starting from Eivor’s childhood. Maybe I will expand on them later, who knows. 
> 
> There are spoilers ahead for the book  
> Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla - Geirmund’s Saga  
> And the Comic.
> 
> *spoilers for my writing*
> 
> There will not be any Eivor/Randvi. I just don’t like the pairing.
> 
> I begin to touch on some body issues Eivor has, but I do not suffer these issues in my real life. If I do it misjustice, please let me know and tell me how to make it better!
> 
> *spoilers over*
> 
> Word count: 1814
> 
> Warnings: Some descriptions of gore, and the beginning of body issues. There are some crushes happening now, but Eivor herself is a young woman, so nothing weird. Styrbjorn in my head is a little bit of a creeper.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Eivor was back with the Raven Clan now. Sigurd was supposed to arrive back soon, which was one of the few things she was looking forward to. Vili had told her tales of his and Sigurd’s exploits, and she wanted to see the look on her brother’s face when she asked him about some of the more embarrassing tales. Eivor sat on top of the longhouse, watching the water for signs of Sigurd’s ship. Her sight was with Synin, who flew a fair distance from Fornburg. After what felt like hours, she could finally see Sigurd’s sails on the horizon. With a blink, she was back in her own eyes, a wide grin on her face. She stayed on top of the longhouse until she could finally see the twin ravens on the sails. At long last, she stood and got a running start, jumping off the building and rolling once she hit the ground. She waited at the docks for her brother.

The weather was warm enough to forgo her shirt, as she has gotten more rune tattoos, these ones on her stomach, the beginning of a large ring on her lower left side. A wolf pelt cloak still sat across her shoulders, keeping the worst of the chill out.

Finally, her brother was close enough to see, and his horn sounded, announcing his arrival. The dock was flooded with people, eager to see what was being brought home. Once docked, Eivor and Sigurd embraced tightly. “Brother,” she spoke, “It is good to see you.” She pulled back and grabbed his shoulders, looking him over. She saw new scars, but no fresh wounds. “How was the raiding?” 

Sigurd clasped her forearms with a large smile. “We fared well and brought many riches!” His smile fell slightly and spoke for her ears alone. “I must speak with my father, but you should know we found a camp of Kjotve’s. We raided it, but he was not there. I’m sorry sister.” 

Her world seemed to freeze as Sigurd spoke. Just hearing the name was enough to light the rage in her blood. She distantly heard herself say “I need to go with you next time, brother.” The world seemed to darken around the edges. She came back to herself with a deep breath as Sigurd shook her slightly. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was slightly irregular.

Sigurd watched her with a worried expression.

The dream came again that night, in sharper clarity that in had in almost a year.

—————————-

That night, Styrbjorn sat down with her and Sigurd, and details were hammered out for her to stay with Sigurd on raids happening close to home. Eventually, she would command her own longship.

—————————-

Not long after Sigurd’s return, Styrbjorn took both her and Sigurd to meet with Hjorr Halfsson. Eivor herself was not permitted into the meeting itself but instead found herself hoping to see the Jarl’s son, Geirmund. He found her, surprisingly enough.

He was a tall man and darker skin than what Eivor usually saw. He was very striking and handsome. They spoke long into the night, trading stories and their personal history. He had no crew or ship. She felt his plight deeply and gave him advice to leave and make his own saga. There was a shared kinship with him and a thick tension. She could not bring herself to take that last step. Her troubled feelings over Sigurd stopped her. She took her leave, disappointed and hollow feeling.

They departed soon after, and she would not see Geirmund again for a long time.

—————————-

Just as promised, once they returned to Fornburg, Styrnbjorn gave his blessings for Eivor to leave with Sigurd- as long as they did not go after Kjotve or stray too far from their home. Sigurd wanted to give her a place of authority on the ship but Eivor (one of the first times at that point) argued against Sigurd’s decision. She did not want any anger or resentment on the longship and demanded to be placed as a raider and no higher. 

A few years passed like this. In the beginning, she was clumsy on raids and lacked real skill. But that quickly changed and she grew more powerful and used to true combat. Soon there was nothing false about her position as Sigurd’s second. She outperformed all the other raiders, much to Dag’s anger and jealousy. She was rarely hurt badly and often was the one helping the other raiders find their feet after a bad fight.

Eivor still preferred her axes, but she could use just about any weapon at this point. Her aim with a bow was nearly unmatched as well.

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It was not long before Eivor was given her own longship to command. Sigurd, blind to the contention between herself and Dag, commanded Dag to be her second. It caused a growing rift between the two of them, and Dag became increasingly more difficult to manage. 

But, Sigurd had commanded it, so Eivor would obey. Anything to prevent the betrayal from in her dreams from coming to pass. Her word was ironclad, and she promised Sigurd that she would stand beside him always.

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Sigurd found her at home one night. His usual cheery face was somber and looked weary. “Father commands that I be wed soon, Sister.” he tells her. Eivor did not say much else to him after that, but they drank their fill of mead and blacked out. But no amount of drink would melt the ice that formed in her stomach at those words. She would lose Sigurd. Lose him to another and this Randvi would take the place that Eivor should have had, had Kjotve not slaughtered her family.

The next morning found Eivor awake before Sigurd. The light made her head pound, and she pushed back deeper into her bed- only to find a body behind her. Heat swirled in her stomach when she remembered. Sigurd never left her home, and it was him that was beside her. They had been sitting on her bed while drinking and that was all she could remember. They did both appear clothed at the very least, so no scandal would happen.

She decided that she would pretend to sleep until Sigurd woke up, and they could deal with it then. But, her eyes were heavy, and when she awoke the next time she was alone. “This marriage means nothing to me. Randvi will be my wife for an alliance, and nothing else” Sigurd had slurred the night before. “Nothing will change between us, Sister.”

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One of the times she set out without Sigurd, she found a raid happening of Kjotve’s men. No matter Dag’s words, she burned with a rage that could not be quelled, and then demanded her crew interfere. During the battle, a raider made fun of her father and what he did. She brought him to his knees and went to give him a deathblow. Time seemed to shift around them, as the world seemed to crash down around her, leaving nothing but a film of water she stood upon, inky darkness around, and a thin mist. The raider stood before her, and another body appeared at her back. All she could see was a hooded cloak, as a man’s voice spoke to her. 

He almost taunted her, but his words were wise. He spoke of her being true to herself and her ideals. Asked what she would give up for the sake of others. She was infuriated, and cut his legs off, leaving him to crawl and beg like he accused her father of doing. After that, the world seemed to shift back into color once again, almost blinding in its brilliance. She then went to help Dag.

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Then the disaster with Gull happened. Being stabbed in the back was painful, and the wound took forever to heal. It still would smart her for the next year at it was slow to heal. Eivor all but refused to sit still and heal. Her body demanded she move, no matter how slowly. Partially it was due to the humiliation she suffered from Styrbjorn’s refusal of the gift. And still, she chose him over everything. But that was not quite right. It was never Styrbjorn she chose and kept returning to. It was Sigurd.

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The following summer, Randvi of the Fox Clan was in Fornburg. Sigurd’s wedding passed as a blur to Eivor, who had begun to drink early. (She was becoming quite adept at handling her mead)

She would later be privately shamed that she could remember almost nothing about the day, aside from the hurt and betrayal that bubbled in her stomach at the handfasting and the shared kiss of the husband and wife.

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Randvi always sought Eivor out, and in turn, Eivor did her best to ignore and hide away from the woman. But she did watch. Randvi seemed a smart woman and recognized that Sigurd held no love or warmth for her other than for the alliance. Eivor began to feel bad for the Fox Clan woman. She obviously had no choice in the matter either.

Eivor continued to go on raids in the meantime. Often, Sigurd would demand she follow on his ship. 

And thus, another year passed. Eivor felt alone despite her brother’s attention on her, and Randvi truly being alone.

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The next spring, Styrbjorn announced to the clan that Sigurd would be taking a longer trip. Sigurd himself had confided in her that he would be going farther than he ever had before. Excitement shined in his eyes, despite the pain he caused Eivor by once again demanding she stay home.

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Almost immediately after Sigurd left, Eivor let her rage and anger cloud her thoughts and judgment. She sought out Kjotve against Styrbjorn’s wishes. The battle was harsh and her crew barely made it out with everyone. Eivor herself carried a large gash on her stomach that would take a long time to heal.

Knowing the ire she would face upon her return home made her almost wonder if she should just sail off to find Sigurd. But, in the end, she returned to Fornburg anyway. As Styrbjorn rounded on her in anger, to Eivor’s great surprise, Randvi stepped in and changed the course of the older man’s anger.

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While healing from the gash and another large circle of tattoos- this time on her back- Eivor finally sought out Randvi to try and make amends for her childish behavior. The other woman seemed relieved to have an ally in the Raven Clan and confessed to Eivor how alone she felt. Randvi was gladdened at Eivor reaching out in friendship, and they became as close as sisters in the following two years. 

Randvi would often divert Styrbjorn’s reprimands away from Eivor as she hunted down Kjotve in earnest, thanks to Randvi’s help.

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End file.
